8. The route home

Hilda sat under a tree, the broom leaning against it. She had figured out by now that witches in this idiotic place were less common and accepted than in the real world, so not using too many tricks was the best way to stay out of sight. Her fingers caressed the necklace that she had been missing for so many hours.

"I am not going to be so careless again, precious," she said.

The witch looked around the park. There were many people here. Ordinary ones. Some were walking dogs. Some were dressed oddly and were running around for no apparent reason. They could not be messengers, as they did not carry things. None of the people seemed to have an occupation. They all just... lounged around. This world was strange. No doubt about it.

"Hey, miss, what are you doing there?" A rough but still friendly voice interrupted her musings.

Hilda looked up and saw a big black man. He wore what looked like a uniform and he wore a kind of cap on his head. A large stick hung from a leather belt. "I am trying to think of a way to get home again."

The policeman nodded. "Fine, but not on the grass, okay?"

Hilda looked around her. "Yes. On the grass, of course, as I am sitting there."

The policeman bent through his knees. "All fun aside, miss. You're not allowed to get onto the grass here. So sit on a gravel path, or pick a bench out there, but you have to get off the grass."

Hilda raised her eyebrows in disbelief. "This world is truly insane, do you know that? Normal things are unheard of, and unheard of things are normal."

"You're telling me, miss. I only do my job upholding the law." The officer stood up again and waited for Hilda to get up as well. He did look at her as she took the broom, but as there was nothing dangerous attached to it, he was cool with it.

Hilda mounted her broom, causing the policeman to frown for a moment. "Have a good day," the witch said and lifted off. It did not make the officer's day good. And the frown was there to stay.

The wicked witch flew over the town, covered with an invisibility-spell, looking for a decent place to plan the next step to find her way home. She found her temporary residence in an old abandoned building. It was large, spacious, and the high fences around it made sure she had all the privacy that she needed. It was not a very fancy place to begin with, but that was not something insurmountable with the aid of magic.

Soon it looked like the good room in her own house, at home. She missed the mirror, but that would take too long to prepare. Desperate times asked for desperate measures.

Dressed in her normal clothes, she placed the crystal ball on the table. The wand went next to it. Hilda sat down on the grand chair and spun a magical web through the room, mixing Latin (which worked fastest) and English (which was more failsafe but a bit slower) until she had the perfect atmosphere for consulting the ball using the power of her necklace.

The necklace was a special one. It had been made in ancient times, even before proper candles, someone had told her long ago. Rumour had it that her necklace had been crafted by dwarfs, which probably was a cartload of cattlemanure. It was however a certainty that the necklace had magically been energised by a very powerful wizard. Used in the right way, and handled by the right hands, the magical electricity sparkled from the gems, and that was the power Hilda needed now.

The preparation was done. Magic was afoot and also over the table. There was a piece of paper, and a quill. While Hilda mumbled her incantations and spells, the crystal ball started showing images. The necklace crackled its energy in blue and green. The quill rose up and started writing ancient signs on the paper. Hilda felt her energy draining as the magic needed for this quest was immense.

Finally the quill had written enough and laid itself down. Hilda brought down the energy she had summoned, whilst trying to remember the pictures of a cart and a large box that the ball had shown her. She knew she had to eat something soon. The last decent meal she'd eaten had been at the house of the ancient one, and that was quite a while ago already.

After undoing the magical web, she walked into another space of the building. There was a lot of debris that could be easily transformed into food. It would taste bland, but that was the least problem. Using her wand, she made some of the stuff float into her chambers and cast the transformation spell. She glared at the result. In her own world food that was prepared this way did not look really appetising, but this looked downright disgusting. The smell was gross. She tried some of it and spat it out again. "This world is wrong. Sick. Bad. I must find a way to go home." There was no other option for her to silence her hunger than by going back to the town of lunatics...

With her broom in hand and wearing the clothes of the locals again, Hilda walked through the streets. Attracting too much attention was not a good thing here. Flying a broom meant attracting attention. Her mood was shot to hell, her stomach growled, her feet screamed at her. Not a good starting point for a wicked witch to operate from.

After a few streets she still had not found a place that could supply her with food, so she stopped a person on the pavement. "I need a meal. Take me to such a place." The wand convinced the woman that she had stopped to walk Hilda to a restaurant, and only then the wicked witch let the spell wear off. The woman was totally confused how she had ended up at the restaurant.

Hilda entered the restaurant, located a table in a corner and marched towards it. She put the broom in the corner and sat down in such a way that she could oversee the place.

"Miss," a waiter said, "this table has been reserved."

"Good," Hilda said, "you can bring me a meal."

The waiter needed a few moments to wrap his brain about what was happening. "Miss, I think you did not understand. This table is prepared for guests who will be here shortly. Could you please sit at another table?"

"No. I sit here. And you are going to bring me food. I am hungry, and my mood is deteriorating rapidly."

"But, miss, please," the waiter tried one more time.

Hilda took out her wand. "Look, boy, you appear to have no enemies. Be nice to me, bring me food, and you will continue to have no enemies. Otherwise you will be dead and have no enemies. Have I made myself clear?"

The waiter hesitated just a moment too long.

"Oboeditus. Tracto cartula." As there was no movement in the waiter, Hilda shook her head. "I hate Latin. Obey. And take care of the bill."

The waiter smiled. "I'll make sure you will have the daily special, miss." He walked off, to return about ten minutes later with a few plates. "Enjoy your meal, miss. I have already taken care of the bill for you. My pleasure, miss."

The wicked witch dug into the food as if it was the first decent meal she had seen in her entire life. This was much better than the degraded grub she had managed to make from the things in her new building.

At the door, there seemed to be some confusion. Hilda followed the proceedings with interest, as the man that led the incoming party was obviously in distress. He kept pointing at the table in the corner, and the waiter was persistently trying to accept them a few other tables. "How sweet," the witch snickered. "He stands up for little ole me. I should leave a coin for him." She didn't, though. She had gone wrong with Latin again, and that had ticked her off.

As she had finished eating, she got up, grabbed the broom and walked to the problem-group at the door. She tugged the waiter's sleeve. "It's fine. Let them have the table."

The waiter smiled and made a deep bow, making Hilda giggle as she left the restaurant. Out in the street she looked to the left and right. There were no secluded spots from where she could fly off. "Oh heck. Why bother." She mounted her broom and kicked off. Somewhere behind her there were some screeching sounds followed by a crashing thud.

The wicked witch landed her broom at the entrance of her new residence and walked inside. There she changed into her normal clothes and set to work on interpreting the information she had gotten to find the way back to her own world. The image of the cart with no horse worried her. As well as the large box that apparently was inside that cart. Hilda already knew she'd have to find that cart, because it held part of the solution.

Using her wand, she magicked up a cup of coffee, the exact same stuff she'd had at the home of the ancient ones. That was good, fortifying and reassuring.

She picked up the first sheet of paper that the quill had written on, and started reading.

"There is the cart of the man William Conolley,

The wares he owns are packed quite thoroughly,

The book of tales, the book of dreams,

Contains the solution, or so it seems

You must find the cart, the book, the man,

And make them tell you all they can,

From there the path will make you roam

And find the trail back to your home."

"You are not going to make this easy on me, are you?", Hilda said to the quill that lay silent on the table. It was not impressed enough to respond. She turned to the next page, which was an attempt to a map. "Call this information?", Hilda snapped, waving the sheet at the quill. "Thanks for nothing." The next page'd better be better.

"A hint for you, my dearest witch,

To find your man without a glitch,

The bookstore of the town you're in,

Should definitely make you win.

The use of magic is forbidden,

Or from the town you will be ridden.

Good luck, enjoy, and have some fun-"

Then Hilda saw the last line change into something new, before she could read the original...

"The cops are here, you'd better run."